“Max, you’re frowning.”
“I have something…a suspicion, if you will…born of the idea that it takes a lot of money to set up this kind of business.” He glanced at her. “More than the average cit could afford.”
She pursed her lips. “You’re thinking someone of high rank?”
“The more I do, the more I like the notion. The whole thing…sawing through wheels…it reeks of personal attacks. It’s the kind of vicious behavior I associate, unfortunately, with many of the Ton. A total lack of concern for others, greed perhaps, or vengeance. All good motives for the sawn wheels, and if there’s more than enough money to secure a villain to perform the deed…”
Kitty’s eyes were wide. “Goodness, you do have a low opinion of the Ton, don’t you?”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “Overall, yes.”
She had to wonder at that, but decided to pursue it at a later time. Max was turning out to be a mystery she would like to unravel. The more time they spent together, the more she found attractive about him, as a person. As a man, he was everything any woman could desire, but for Kitty his appeal grew not just from his masculinity, but also his honesty, his intelligence, and his willingness to treat her as someone who could think. It showed respect for people on a level she’d not experienced very much before, and it filled her with gratitude.
On an impulse, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
He raised his eyebrows. “For what?”
She grinned. “For being you.”
~~~~*
Upon their return to Mowbray House, both Max and Kitty were surprised to be greeted by Deery with a somewhat concerned—for him—expression. “Welcome home, sir, Miss Ridlington,” he said as the door opened. “Company arrived while you were absent. Mrs. Chaney was in the parlor…I wasn’t quite sure what to do with him.”
Max’s pulse accelerated at the thought of his sister, so hermit-like in her choice of life, closeted with a man. “Who, Deery?” He struggled from the caped cloak.
“Sir Peregrine Hawkesbury, sir.” Deery took both Max’s and Kitty’s outer garments. “I can only hope I did right?”
Max relaxed. “You did, Deery. Thank you.” He turned to Kitty. “Come on. I’d like you to meet Perry.”
She followed him as he strode the length of the hall and opened the parlor door.
“So Max said to him…by all means, sir. Perhaps you can bring it back to life…I hear your caresses are magical.”
This was followed by a peal of laughter from Grace, the likes of which Max could barely remember hearing. “Perry. Stop telling my sister disgraceful stories.” He walked in and crossed the room shaking hands with his friend.
“Oh, Max. So funny.” Grace hiccupped. “I haven’t laughed so much in an age.”
“I told you that you should get out of the house more, my girl,” grinned Max, noting the veil was in place, but her eyes were sparkling with delight.
Kitty cleared her throat.
“Forgive me…Perry, this is Miss Kitty Ridlington. Kitty, this is my oldest friend, Sir Peregrine Hawkesbury.”
One full eyebrow rose over dark eyes that surveyed Kitty from head to foot. “So this is the scandalous Miss Ridlington.” He bowed. “May I say it is an honor to make your acquaintance?”
Kitty dropped a polite curtsey. “You may indeed, sir.” She twinkled at him. “And thank you for not fainting or immediately quitting the room at my presence. I am aware you have every right to give me the cut direct.”
“Nonsense.” Sir Peregrine glanced at Max. “I have it on the best authority that you are far above that sort of Society silliness.”
Kitty grinned. “I would guess Max is more above it than I am, but thank you all the same.”
Sitting opposite his sister on the sofa, Max crossed his legs and stared at his friend. “So, other than warming your backside at my fire and making Grace laugh, what has encouraged you to exchange your hearth for mine?”
“I was bored,” he sighed. “Thus your recent visit intrigued me.”
“Do you find yourself often bored, sir?” Grace tipped her head to one side as she asked the question.
“Sometimes, Mrs. Chaney. When the woes of our world weigh heavily on my shoulders.” His head hung with weariness.
“Bravo. Sir Peregrine Hawkesbury delivered a perfect performance last night on the boards of Drury Lane,” drawled Max, his lips curving into a grin. “I find myself beset with drama these days. Could we just have a conversation, straightforward, with no digressions into Hamlet?”
“I was going more for Lear, but I do take your point.” Perry waved a hand. “You asked about a variety of topics, Max, but the entire matter of the sabotaged spokes caught at my attention.”
Crossing the room, he picked up a neatly tied roll of papers, and held it up. “This, ladies and gentleman, is the culmination of some quite ingenious digging around.”
“Or what our government likes to call intelligence gathering?” Max’s eyebrows rose with the question.
“If you don’t mind using the words government and intelligence in the same sentence, then yes. Same thing.” He replaced the papers. “I looked into the carriage business. Quite fascinating. Barker’s, of course, is the cream of the crop, followed closely by Rowley, Marshall and Cook. Both organizations have sterling reputations, a solid background of years of carriages, and are bowling along quite nicely, if you’ll pardon the obscure pun.”
“We will,” promised Kitty, leaning forward with eager attention. “Do go on.”
“Then there are the newcomers, two companies new to the business, both of whom have designs that are not dissimilar. This might result from the fact that the men who run the actual workshops apprenticed together.”
“Aha. You’re speaking of Whetstone and Frank, and Kanehall?”
“Yes.”
“We just came from Whetstone and Frank,” said Kitty. “It seems we’re travelling the same roads on different vehicles, Sir Peregrine.” She glanced at Max. “If that makes sense.”
He nodded. “Indeed. Perry, did you happen to learn of anyone named Singleton?”
Perry gave a slight smile. “Interesting you should mention that name. I learned it is the company holding the financial resources for Whetstone and Frank.”
“So there isn’t an actual person named Singleton?”
“Not to my knowledge. I traced the company to a reputable bank with a record of well-known investors, so it all looks legitimate.”
“But we don’t know who is behind the funding then,” said Kitty thoughtfully.
“How about Kanehall?” Max looked at his friend. “Anything there?”
“Now that’s where it gets much more than just interesting.” Perry glanced around the room. “The financial setup is superficially the same as Whetstone, but this time I was able to trace the business to an actual person. Louis DuQuesne.”
“Really?” Max’s eyes widened. “Of course. DuQuesne. Kanehall. Similar pronunciation, different spelling.”
“This is a familiar name?” Grace glanced at Max and then at Perry. “Do you know this man?”
“I know the name,” said Max.